Forgotten
by Constalina
Summary: How can one of the exorcists forget the war?


**Author's Note: **… Yes, I should be updating my other fics. No, I don't really care if I'm starting a new one. Enjoy!

A faint tinkle of a bell was heard as the café door opened and all the noise of the outside world was briefly heard as a customer entered. The customer was a handsome man, around his mid-twenties, carrying a fairly large suitcase. He wore clothes that weren't out of the ordinary. Many people would have overlooked him, if it weren't for his fire-red hair, and black eye patch. He saw a table at the corner of the café, and made his way there.

A group of girls, who probably just reached adulthood, spotted him, and started to giggle and chatter. The man noticed, stopped walking and turned to them. They became quiet, holding their breaths. The man caught one of the girl's eyes, and winked at her. The girl turned bright pink, and the girls started giggling and chattering again.

The man sat down at the table, placing his suitcase on top. He quickly glanced at the menu, and then opened the suitcase. A rosy cheeked waitress approached him, looking slightly nervous.

"W-Welcome to Victoria's Café. What would you like today?" she said. The man smiled at her, and she blushed.

"A regular cappuccino please," he said.

"Is that all?" she asked. He nodded and paid her before she could ask for the money. As she left, he turned back to his suitcase. Inside were piles and piles of papers. He sighed, knowing he had to organize all of the papers. He took out three folders, each having a bold '49', and started placing the papers inside them.  
As he was filing/shoving the papers inside the folders, a picture fell out. He stopped 'filing' the papers and picked up the photo. A sea of faces greeted him. He trembled. They all were so familiar to him. He could remember their voices, their laughter, and their tears. He turned the photo around. On the back, in fine writing, it said 'The Black Order', with a faded date on the bottom right.

He turned the photo around again, and looked for himself in the picture. He found himself, one arm around a frowning, navy blue haired Asian man, the other arm around a white haired British boy with a golden golem in his hair.

"Here's your cappuccino, sir," said the waitress. He looked up, and smiled.

"Thanks," he said. She placed the coffee down on the table, and scurried off. He looked back at he photo, and pointed to the navy blue haired man, and muttered,

"It's Yuu-chan. Kanda Yuu." He moved his finger to the white haired boy, murmuring,

"Moyashi. Allen. Allen Walker…" He moved along the picture, naming all those familiar faces in the photo. Once he was done, he eyed the suitcase, and smiled.

He dug into it, papers flying everywhere. He finally felt a familiar cloth, and pulled it out. It was a slightly worn black bag. He smiled triumphantly.

"Ahem." He turned around. The papers that had flown out of the suitcase had landed onto the table behind him. The customers behind were not happy.

"Ah! Sorry!" He leapt off his seat and took the papers back from the disgruntled customers. He placed he bag to the side, and quickly shove the papers into the folder. Then he drank the cappuccino in one gulp. He packed the folders into the suitcase.

Finally, he turned to the bag, and opened it, and tipped the contents onto the table. A black and green bandana, an orange-red scarf, a small hammer, and three boxes, one small, the others larger. Those were the contents of the bag.

He picked up the bandana, and smiled. He had been wearing bandanas long before he had this one, but this one had been made especially for him. He supposed it was a present for him for joining the Black Order.

He glanced at the scarf. It didn't really have much significance to him. He was well known in the Order for wearing it.

He placed the bandana and scarf back into the bag, and picked up the hammer. He glanced around the café, and then turned back to the hammer. He smirked as he played with the hammer, making it grow and shrink. It was his Innocence, Ozuchi Kozuchi. He had fond memories on how useful it had been to him, in battle and for messing around. He had stopped using it on the same day that the war ended. He shrunk the hammer, and pocketed it.

He then opened the larger boxes. They were his silver embedded Black Order uniforms, his first one to his last one. He nearly cried. He didn't know why, but the overwhelming feeling of nostalgia made him want to cry. He folded the uniforms, and placed him back into the bag.

He finally opened the smallest box. Inside were pictures. Pictures of everything from the Black Order. Good times, bad times. Heck, there was even a picture of him braiding Kanda's hair. He looked through them all.

The man then realized how long it was since he last saw the people in the pictures. Seven years. Only seven years. And in those seven years, he'd forgotten them. His friends. He had forgotten how he laughed with them, how he cried with them, how he fought with them. He felt stupid. Why did he forget those days? Why did he forget the happiest moments of his life?

He remembered their parting words. When the Order disappeared from history, they all promised that they would never forget the time spent there. He felt so guilty, for he had forgotten. He even wore the same eye patch from that time, and he still forgot.

Sickened and frustrated, he packed up his suitcase, and half-ran out of the café. He flung open the door, and accidentally hit the person who was entering. The person, who had fallen, was wearing a hood, and white hair could partially be seen. The man was shocked, thinking he had knocked over an old man.

"Ah! Sorry, sir!" said the man, holding out his hand. The person took his hand and stood up. It wasn't an old man, but a man in his early twenties.

"It's okay, it's not your…" the person began. "… That isn't you, is it Lavi?" Lavi blinked in surprise.

"Moyashi?" The white haired boy looked pissed.

"You're still calling me that?!" he said exasperatedly. Lavi started to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It's just… You've grown, Allen!" That wasn't the reason, but Lavi couldn't control his laughter. Meeting Allen Walker in a place like this, right after looking at his files, and remembering the Black Order. It was too coincidental.

"Idiot! What's so funny about that?!" Allen hit Lavi angrily.

"It just is!"

"By the way, Lavi, where's Bookman?" Lavi stopped laughing.

"Ah, right here," said Lavi, pointing at himself. Allen took the clue.

"Oh…" There was an awkward silence. "So, did you break it?"

"Break what?" asked Lavi, obviously confused.

"Our promise. To never forget the Black Order." Allen was smiling warmly. Inside Lavi, a part of him crumbled, knowing that he had forgotten.

"To be honest, I did." Allen looked pained, and slightly angry. "But I found this." He pulled out the picture of the members of the Order.

"… It's everyone…" said Allen, smiling weakly.

"Don't worry," said Lavi, "I'll never forget it again." Lavi looked at the sky and thought,

"_Yes. I'll never forget the time… of the 49 record, Lavi._"

**Author's Note: **Okay, that didn't end the way I wanted it to, but I guess it is okay… Review please!


End file.
